The Assassination Attempt
by TheCovertGirl
Summary: I deleted this by accident, so I've re-uploaded it. When Joe Solomon was 18 and working for the Circle, he was forced to assassinate the Pope. What will happen when a certain CIA agent finds out? Briefly mentioned in Matt Morgan's journal in OGSY.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: I accidentally deleted this story. Sorry! . I had it backed-up still, so it's not too bad. Here it is (again), with better formatting! Read and review and stuff. ^U^**

* * *

**Solomon's POV**

I woke from another night of terror, hoping I didn't wake Matt with my screaming. My heart was thumping in my chest as I shot up to a sitting position. I felt like I couldn't breathe - like someone had thrown me against the wall. Glancing down at my arms, I saw that I was drenched in sweat; this was one of the worst times for this to happen. Slowly, I got out of my bed – abandoning the knife I woke up grasping tightly in my hand. Walking out into the empty hallway of the hotel, I noticed the sound of a door clicking softly. I approached Matt's room, carefully opening the door.

"Hey Joe," Matt said, seeing my pale reflection in the window he was facing, "I'm guessing you heard me by your room. Having those nightmares again?"

"Yeah, but it's nothing you should worry about." I answered, hoping he couldn't hear the fear in my voice.

I mean, he shouldn't be worried about it, but _I _was. I couldn't tell him about this - not yet at least. The memories kept flooding back to three years ago, those vivid images seared into my mind – the day I almost killed the Pope.

* * *

I was sixteen when the Circle of Cavan first recruited me at Blackthorne. I was the best at hand-to-hand combat and covert operations in the junior year, so they chose me for training in the summer. I was told not to tell anyone of this, not even my friends outside of the Circle. I needed to remember everything that was going to happen over the next few years, so I kept a journal – just in case something bad happened to me or anyone I hid this secret from.

By the time I was eighteen and working for the CIA, the Circle sent me to Vatican City for a secret mission I had little information on. I was given a fake passport, a plane ticket and a slip of paper saying:

_Meet Operative Goode by the white building  
facing the Sistine Chapel at 3:25pm_

I had been trained for operations with more information available, so I had began doubting the reason I was sent here. Meeting an operative in a religious city can't be very inconspicuous, could it? Why was I in the Vatican City to meet a Circle member? It didn't make much sense to me. I followed my instructions anyway, knowing that I was being monitored by the Circle. By the time I noticed the two men tailing me, it was too late. They grabbed me from behind, shoving a chloroform-soaked rag on my face. Even though I tried to fight back, my abductors ignored my resistance as they dragged my semi-paralysed body into a hidden alley.

By the time I woke up and the effects of the chemicals had worn off, I found myself in a black room – my wrists tied to a post in the centre of an intricate yet unnatural design on the ground. I began going through the possible escape routes in my mind – the window behind the drawn curtains, the vent above the- the altar? Looking down, I saw myself, covered in oddly precise scars and wearing nothing but my worn out jeans. Fresh blood flowed from the newly opened wounds on my forearms, pooling into the deep recesses in the floor's pattern. Several footsteps echoed behind me and an unfamiliar voice spoke.

"Ready for your mission, Joe?" a robed figure enquired. Their voice was feminine and a stray piece of red hair stuck out from under the hood.

_I've seen her before_, I thought to myself, _but where?_

"If I had any idea what it was." I muttered, earning a kick to the ribs – spilling more blood onto the already blood-stained floor.

"You've been trained by some of the best in the Circle and now is the time to prove yourself worthy," a second voice announced.

I stood up awkwardly with my arms tied behind me, grimacing as the cuts on my shoulders began to bleed.

"Why exactly am I covered in cuts?" I asked, wondering how long I was out cold for.

"Oh, that information is classified. Let's just say that it's something we in the Circle think highly of." the red-haired woman replied.

_Something is definitely wrong about the Circle. I have to tell someone about this cult. I have to-_

Before I could think of the end of that sentence, one figure bandaged up my arms and chest, gave me a plain t-shirt, jacket and shoes, cut the ropes tying me to the post, then placed a small, sharp butterfly knife in my hand.

"Your job is to assassinate the Pope. You have until tomorrow at 2 pm," the woman declared, removing her hood and revealing a mad gleam in her eyes.

"And if I don't?"

"Well, there's no other option for you. We've made our mark on you." she said, pointing to the bandages on my arms, "Unless you can hide those scars, you'll be wanted by every official in MI6, the CIA, FBI and the NSA and interrogated until you are close to revealing the Circle's secrets. If it gets to that point, we will have no choice but to, shall we say, dispose of you discreetly."

The way she described it made it sound like this has happened before; it made me feel sick.

"Have fun!" she smiled, making her look immensely evil.

* * *

**Goode's POV**

We watched him walk out of the room, sliding the knife into his left pocket. When he disappeared into the crowd, we removed our hoods.

"I think he could make a great assassin."

"He will. The ritual went without a hitch and there is no possible way that those scars will heal without leaving some sort of visible mark." I said, stating the obvious.

I turned to look at the floor of the room, seeing how Solomon's blood had drained into the detailed design, making it look like there had been a human sacrifice just moments ago, which is partly true. He's now bound to the Circle of Cavan.

* * *

**Solomon's POV**

I walked out of the room, knowing what I had been tasked with doing. The sharp blade felt heavy in my pocket as I stepped out into the open – the reddish sky giving way to night. I made my way to the hotel I'd be staying at, wondering whether or not I should go through with the mission. As I stepped into the lobby, I immediately bumped into someone. Of course, it seemed like an accident, but I could tell it was done on purpose.

"Oh jeez. I'm so sorry!" exclaimed the girl. She looked about the same age as me and had long, dark hair that fell in waves. What stood out about her though was the way she reacted, it would seem genuine if you weren't trained to tell lies and spot them.

_Is she a spy? _I thought, amusing myself with how paranoid that seemed, S_he wanted to talk to me, so I may as well act like your average guy._

"It's okay," I said, showing her my trademark smile and offering my hand, "I'm Joe."

"Abby." the girl replied, shaking my hand.

You can tell a lot about people with one handshake, but at that moment I couldn't say what kind of person she was. The only thing I did know was this:

_She was a spy_

I felt compelled to question her, so I did what any other guy in my situation would do. I took her out on a date.

* * *

There are some things a spy is trained to do - tell believable lies, pass objects to each other discreetly, etc., but I wasn't trained to flirt. To me, this was another challenge that I could beat; the prize being information. I knew this was going to be hard.

"So what made you come to this place?" I asked nonchalantly, hoping she'd notice that I wasn't there for small talk.

After peering over her shoulder (the worst thing a spy could do), she looked down and mumbled, "Um... I'm on my way to a CIA mission. This is only a short stop for me - gotta get to Buenos Aires soon. But I'm not supposed to know that."

To be honest, I didn't know what surprised me more - that she actually trusted me with that information or that she reminded me of Matt's girlfriend, Rachel, when she was nervous. The way she bit her lower lip and played with the hem of her dress made me double take since I thought it was her for a moment. She looked up, staring into my eyes, almost teasingly. I don't know why, but at that moment, I just _knew _they were related.

"I could tell," I said, leaning towards her, "so what exactly is your mission?"

Abby obviously wasn't a terrible spy as she replied, "It's classified information." I was about to say how 'classified' information wasn't really hard to get if you had a knife, but then she said, "So how's Matt?"

I fell back into my chair, a shocked expression on my face. The possibility of her knowing him was 4.7 million to one - I couldn't begin to imagine how she knew we were friends. "How do you kno-"

"I found a picture of you two when Matt started dating my sister. By the way, you look good in a baseball cap - a good thing in my book." Oh, she was _good_.

"Since you're a CIA agent, I was wondering if you could help me with something." I took off my jacket, revealing the rough gauze wrapped around my arms, "It's not as bad as it looks, I promise." I winced as I tried to put my jacket on, giving up halfway through and leaving it on the back of my seat.

"God! What happened?"

"I can't. It's classified information," I smirked, repeating what she had said only 5 minutes and 39 seconds ago, "but anyway, I heard that those from the Gallagher Academy can make my injuries disappear. From the looks of things," I said, glancing at her flawless skin, "it's true."

She giggled (yes, actual giggling) and grabbed my hand saying, "Come on, let's get out of here. I've got some of Dr Fibbs' scar-removing cream."

* * *

When we got back to the hotel, Abby took me to her room (just across the hall from mine) and told me to sit down. I did as I was told for once and sat by the window, tired from all the events that had happened that day. I could see her going through a small bag, quietly cursing to herself at the mess she had created. She pulled out a small, unlabelled pot of cream, then walked over to where I sat. I reached for it but she pulled back, saying, "First, tell me what happened."

I turned away from her and repeated myself, "I can't."

"Then I guess I can't give you this," she sighed, throwing the pot carelessly back into her bag.

She turned to open the door, so I lunged for her bag. I was just a fingertip away from getting it before I was thrown to the ground. I countered this by taking hold of her ankle and somersaulting back to my feet - turning the tables in this situation. Now Abby lay on the hotel floor, but why was she grinning?

"You're not just a pretty face after all!" she laughed, "but you might not be the smartest spy I've met." She pulled out the plain pot from a hidden pocket, waving it in my face as she got up.

"Oh really?" I challenged, "Open that up then."

Quickly unscrewing the lid, she stared at the contents of it. She tipped it upside-down and a note fell out of it, reading:

_Nice try, Gallagher Girl.  
Better luck next time!  
-J.S _

I reached into my front pocket, revealing an identical pot. "Is this yours?" I said almost innocently, offering it to her in the palm of my hand.

Now, instead of grabbing me by the throat or anything, she did something that no grown man couldn't counter – she _tickled _me. (I know what you're thinking – she's _obviously _flirting with me. But no, I wasn't interested. Maybe it was because of what happened that day or maybe I saw us as just friends. Now back to the story.)

My instincts told me to hold on tighter, but I dropped it - no amount of AlphaNet torture could ever prepare you for Abigail Cameron.

"Do you want to tell me what happened yet or do I have to make some sort of deal with you?"

"Depends what you're going to offer. I probably know all the information you know and more."

"I'll give you some of the cream if you tell me one thing." she said, a slight smirk on her face.

"And that would be?" I asked warily.

"What the Hell happened?"

This conversation was going nowhere and the time I had left was slowly slipping away. I had to use my last resort - showing her what had happened and lettting her imagination make up a story. After taking off my t-shirt, I quickly undid most of my bandages, which by the way felt like a great idea at the time - not so much two minutes later when I broke a sweat trying to remove my shoulder bandages.

"Need any help?" she asked, covering her mouth after noticing how inappropriate it sounded (I mean, I _was _standing in her hotel room shirtless, but her offering to help me take off my bandages seemed like a disturbing way of hitting on me).

Before I could answer, she walked up to me and unwrapped the blood-soaked gauze from my body. Her eyes widened as she stared directly at the Circle's handiwork.

"No. Y-you can't be- I don't-" she stammered, gripping the cloth tighter in her hands.

"Now you know why I need that cream." I reached out to take the pot from her and she instantly snapped out of whatever flashback she was in.

"Okay. Explain. Now." she demanded. So I did.

* * *

"So you can't just leave the Circle and never look back?"

"They don't work like that," I sighed, hoping for a solution to my problem, "if they did let me leave, I'd be dead, buried and all my personal information would be destroyed before sunrise."

"You know their agents, so you can easily avoid them, right?"

"Wrong. The Circle works in small cells - groups of people working for the same thing. Two agents could be sitting right next to each other and they wouldn't even know."

I kept pacing up and down the small room, running my hand through my hair in frustration. We both knew we weren't going to get any sleep in this situation - Abby was too involved now and I had to endure the stinging of Dr Fibbs' prototype cream (if only I knew that at the time, I wouldn't have been so persistent in getting it). I sat down on a chair, almost giving up on the idea of abandoning the Circle. But then it hit me. The perfect plan - the one thing that could save me.


	2. Chapter 2

The next morning, I was ready. With Abby helping with this operation, I knew I could get away from the Circle. I made my way to the Sistine Chapel - my original meeting point with the Circle of Cavan. The robed figures were back; they were watching my every move. Something told me that if I didn't do as they asked, they would abduct me (again), interrogate me then put me through some intense training course to finish this mission. I shook that thought from my mind, feeling the smooth handle of the knife in my pocket.

I looked at the sky, making it out to be around 1:55pm. In three minutes, the Pope would appear to a crowd of religious tourists. In four minutes, I would attempt to assassinate him in front of the excited crowd. After that, I either accept my fate and go with the Circle or follow the last minute plan I had come up with in the middle of the night. I waited for the signs that signalled the Pope's appearance - the cheering, the doors cracking open, the hidden security members, etc. When they didn't show, I began to panic. My deadline was fast approaching and I had nothing to fall back on if I didn't even try. I got up from the wall I had been leaning on and made my way through the crowd. I reached the building closest to the entrance and drew the knife. I flipped it open, revealing a polished dagger-like blade.

I took aim from the shadows as the tourists went silent with anticipation. The doors began to open and the crowd went wild - cheers coming from every person. As the Pope stood in the open doorway, I threw the knife. It felt like time was slowing down as I watched the knife cut through the air - making its way to my target. When it finally hit, security began swarming into the area - surrounding the man that I had been tasked with killing. The crowds were in mass hysteria and I had created it. I ran through the dark alleys, hiding from everyone. Getting out was the final part of the plan - the most crucial part of any operation.

When I finally got out of there, I casually walked to the rendezvous to meet Abby. My mission had gone perfectly and there was no going back. I reached the CIA safe house that Abby had loaned for today and walked inside - the door was unlocked as planned. I lay on the couch, waiting for my plan to unfold completely.

* * *

**Abby's POV**

I saw the knife skimming the Pope's face - narrowly missing him by a centimetre; the knife had lodged itself into the stone wall just two metres away. The panic that swept across the city was instantaneous and nobody saw the green-eyed man run further into the shadows. I watched as the woman who kidnapped Joe sighed in disappointment and sent her agents to find him. I was the only one that noticed that the assassin was gone from the scene and no-one was injured in the attack.

I stepped away from the madness and began to follow the route to the safe house. That was until I was grabbed from behind. I knew it had been too easy. I shifted my body weight slightly which knocked the agent to the ground. Looking down, I saw a young boy not much older than I was. Then it hit me - _these Circle members are recruited young. They don't know what they're getting themselves into_. Taking a short detour, I left to meet Joe. I knew he'd be waiting for me, so I ran faster.

Getting to the hidden house had been harder than I expected. The place was covered in tripwires, bullet-proof glass and laser grids. I genuinely felt shocked to see Joe asleep on the couch - how could he just walk in here and avoid all the security measures? I carefully shook him awake and he looked at me, smiled then said, "You're late."

* * *

**Solomon's POV**

I sat up and listened to what Abby saw of the mayhem. I was so relieved to hear that I didn't kill/maim anyone, especially the Pope. Everything went as planned - I escaped from the scene unnoticed, the Circle was disappointed in me (but I didn't know if they could tell I failed on purpose) and I made a good friend from all of this. I believed that this wasn't going to be the last time I saw her - we're both in the CIA and we had Matt and Rachel to meet up with soon. My unofficial mission was over for now and I realized that it was now Abby's turn to go to a foreign country for a classified reason.

"Aren't you going to miss your flight to Buenos Aires or something?" I asked, wondering why she stayed in this Italian villa instead of leaving for her own mission.

"Oh yeah, I should be getting back to Langley now." she mumbled, looking like the girl I first questioned in the restaurant.

"Promise to stay in touch with me?" I offered. Instantly, she lit up and smiled.

"I'd love to." She hugged me and walked to the door. She stopped and turned around and said, "Can I just ask, what department in the CIA are you in?"

I opened my backpack containing the things I had brought with me on this mission. I found the sheet of paper that I had forgotten about until now and I couldn't believe my luck. One of the agents in my team in the CIA was none other than Abigail Cameron!

She laughed at my disbelief and took my arm, "Come on. Don't want to be late for our next mission!"

"So that's why you bumped into me yesterday? Because you _knew _who I was?" I laughed, "And you were acting like you didn't know we were going to be working together! Oh, you're too good."


End file.
